


The Wolves of Eos

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Vaguely menacing sex, Werewolf AU, just a hint of choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: AU where Ravus is a werewolf conscripted into serving the empire. He’s used to being feared by those who don’t understand the nature of wolves, but when he falls under the sway of Ardyn Izunia, he finds that he knows very little of a wolf’s true nature after all...
Relationships: Ravus Nox Fleuret/Ardyn Izunia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	The Wolves of Eos

**Author's Note:**

> Basically porn with only the barest hint of a plot, because of course.

Ravus Nox Fleuret shivers in the chill air of the imperial keep of Gralea, and tugs at the starched brim of his uniform collar. It’s been months since he’s set foot in the empire proper—His orders have kept him further afield, tearing through the scattered ranks of the Lucian forces—and the enclosed walkways of the keep make his breath come short and his skin itch. If he must be indoors at all, the manor of Tenebrae is more his liking—wide halls, open air sun-rooms, the familiar scent of sylleblossom and jasmine—but as it stands, he almost considers risking the frigid winds beyond the keep walls.

They’re certainly more pleasant than what waits for him by the training courts. Caligo Ulldor, the imperial-appointed military governor of Tenebrae, stands with a man Ravus has only barely seen in passing—A tall, broad-shouldered bureaucrat who spends more time gadding off in the research labs than working in his actual office. He keeps his dark red hair fashionably unkempt, and Ravus bristles as he realizes that he’ll have to pass him in order to make it to the training court doors.

“Excuse me,” Ravus says. It’s more of a demand than an apology—He never needs more than a look at best to clear a room—but Ardyn Izunia, chancellor of Niflheim, simply raises his brows and leans back.

“Consider yourself excused,” he says. “Ah. My young...” he looks Ravus up and down, lingering on the insignia on his uniform. “Captain.”

“You haven’t met?” Caligo gives Ravus a fleeting glance. “That’s the emperor’s newest pet. Tenebraean stock. Shame the other didn’t take.”

Ravus smiles thinly. The last time he saw Lunafreya, she was racing through the woods of Tenebrae, a white flicker of moonlight through the trees. Their gazes had met, just for a moment, and Ravus, standing in his imperial uniform with a squad of soldiers at his back, had given the order to retreat. Only another wolf would have seen her as she disappeared into the shadows of the wood.

“Yes,” Ravus says. “A shame.”

He can almost scent the fear in the sweat beading at Caligo’s neck. Ravus may wear the emperor’s colors, but no one can ever truly collar a wolf, and Caligo knows that better than most. He steps closer, and Caligo adjusts his cuffs. 

“A pleasure,” says the chancellor. He smiles blandly, and his gaze is appropriately vague as he extends a gloved hand. Ravus doesn’t take it. “You don’t shake?”

Caligo sucks in a sharp breath, and Ardyn laughs.

“There you are,” Ardyn says, letting his hand drop. “Wolves and princes make terrible pets, Caligo.” He bows just a little too deeply to be polite, and the hairs start to prick at Ravus’ neck. “Your royal highness.”

“That isn’t his title,” Caligo snaps, but Ardyn ignores him to gesture towards the training courts, with their soft blue mats and walls of shoddy, unbalanced weapons. Ravus strides past him, and can’t help the shiver that runs down his arm as he brushes Ardyn’s coat.

Ardyn leans on the half wall circling the training courts as Ravus slowly strips off his overshirt. Caligo hasn’t followed Ardyn in—no one bothers to watch Ravus train anymore. They seem to think Ravus could go feral at any time, that the sight of a living, breathing creature is all he needs for the beast to take hold. But Ardyn doesn’t seem to care. Ravus can feel his gaze at his back even as he takes down the only decent sword from the wall, and tries to ignore the thrill that stirs in him at the thought. There was always an audience at Tenebrae, lines of subjects jostling to get a glimpse of their future king. He hasn’t felt the rush of anticipation in years.

He takes a few passes with the sword, and settles into his drills, letting his body remember the steps of the Tenebraean sword dance his mother had taught him and Luna. Three steps, thrust, turn, throw the sword—shift, lunge, twist, shift, human to wolf to human again in the span of a breath, then another, forms melding together, rushing from wolf instinct to mortal calculation. The sword weaves through it all like a needle, and he ends the sequence as a wolf, panting slightly.

From his post at the wall, Ardyn applauds.

Ravus twists round in time to see Ardyn approaching him, boots sinking into the mat. He stifles a growl—No one can touch him like this, not since Tenebrae—but Ardyn doesn’t know, and when he lifts his hands, Ravus doesn’t turn aside. Fingers slide across his fur, barely stroking his muzzle, and Ardyn lifts Ravus’ massive jaw for a closer look.

“Magnificent,” he says.

Above his curving smile, Ardyn’s eyes are dead as amber.

Less than half an hour later, Ravus has Ardyn pressed against the wall of a storage closet, shirt unbuttoned, trousers tugged down around his thighs. Ardyn doesn’t protest the less than gentle treatment—He moans when Ravus enters him, rutting into him like the beast the empire believes Ravus to be, and smiles into his arms. Ravus takes a fistful of mauve hair, and Ardyn’s gaze slides towards him just long enough that Ravus lets go. Ardyn’s lids lower until all Ravus can see is the line of his lashes, and Ravus pushes him against the wall.

“My,” Ardyn says. “What strong arms you have.”

“Always hated that story,” Ravus grits out, and Ardyn laughs low in his chest. A broom topples next to them, and Ravus grips Ardyn by the thighs to drag him closer.

“You would,” Ardyn says. How he can manage to talk when Ravus is fucking him over a shelf of cleaning supplies is beyond him, but he doesn’t even sound breathless. “They kill the wolf in that version of the story, don’t they?”

“They kill him in every version,” Ravus hisses. Ardyn is making him do all the work, now, and sweat rolls down his back as he chases the building heat racing through his skin. “Even in Tenebrae.”

“I always preferred the story of the butcher’s daughter, myself,” Ardyn says.

“Gods, just—“ Ravus lays a hand on the back of Ardyn’s head, tries to grind into him, but Ardyn slowly pushes himself off the wall. For a glorified clerk, he’s uncommonly strong—Ravus, who is panting for breath in the cramped closet, finds himself pushed inexorably down, long legs buckling under Ardyn’s hands. He sits sprawled in the clutter they’ve made, and stares up at the shadow of Ardyn standing over him for an eyeblink before Ardyn’s lips ghost over his own. Ardyn straddles his lap, and Ravus’ breath hitches sharply.

“They say the butcher’s daughter met a man in the wood,” Ardyn says, in his low, unbroken voice. He wraps his arms around Ravus in a mockery of an embrace, and Ravus struggles not to let it show as Ardyn clenches around him. “They say the man has golden eyes and a too-sharp smile. They say he offered her his hand, but the butcher will marry her to the mayor’s son, who has good prospects and a nice house and murders cats for sport.”

“Ardyn,” Ravus manages to say. Ardyn slips his fingers over Ravus’ mouth.

“They say she smiles more, now,” Ardyn whispers. He rides Ravus slowly, with no apparent sign of pleasure beyond the slow, wicked smile that slashes through the dark. “They say she takes a sliver of raw meat every evening and eats it with her fingers, and her hair has grown long and her eyes are flecked with gold. They say she laughs when the moon is high, and stands at her window, watching the woods.”

Ravus closes his eyes, but Ardyn’s voice is that much clearer, now, and he can feel him move with a force that has Ravus gasping.

“They say she took a cleaver to her husband the mayor’s son,” Ardyn says. “They say when the executioner’s blade fell, her body fell back to reveal a white wolf with golden eyes and a collar of blood around her neck. They say they still see her in the woods, some nights, racing into the dark with a grey wolf at her side. They say—“

“Ardyn,” Ravus gasps.

Ardyn’s hand inches up to Ravus’ neck. He holds him there, fingers tight as a collar, and Ravus gasps as his hips jerk and his chest heaves—

“They say—“

Ravus curses as he comes, and beneath the roaring in his ears, all he can hear is the low timbre of Ardyn’s laugh. Ardyn keeps his hands locked around Ravus’ neck, holding him there as he struggles to regain his composure, and for the first time since the blade pushed through his mother’s back in the burning fields of Tenebrae, Ravus is afraid.

“Oh, no,” Ardyn says, in a soft voice. “You think yourself the wolf in the woods, don’t you?”

“I don’t—“

“Poor boy,” Ardyn whispers. His fingers tighten, just a fraction, and he kisses Ravus’ neck as they finally slide down his heaving chest. His teeth graze Ravus’ skin, and Ravus goes still as he feels the sharp sting of canines against his throat. 

Ardyn’s lips curve in a terrible smile. 

“You’ve never met a true wolf in your life.”


End file.
